a will, and won't let it get on her nerves. She's just about as tense
as they make them, yet, instead of going wild when she can't sleep,
she just wills to relax, and she does relax. She calls them her `white
nights,' when she gets them. Maybe she'll fall asleep at daybreak, or
at nine or ten in the morning; and then she'll sleep the rest of the
clock around and get down to dinner as chipper as you please."

"It's constitutional, I fancy," Graham suggested.

Bert nodded.

"It would be a handicap to nine hundred and ninety-nine women out of a
thousand. But not to her. She puts up with it, and if she can't sleep
one time--she should worry--she just sleeps some other time and makes
it up."

More and other things Bert Wainwright told of his hostess, and Graham
was not slow in gathering that the young man, despite the privileges
of long acquaintance, stood a good deal in awe of her.

"I never saw anybody whose goat she couldn't get if she went after
it," he confided. "Man or woman or servant, age, sex, and previous
condition of servitude--it's all one when she gets on the high and
mighty. And I don't see how she does it. Maybe it's just a kind of
light that comes into her eyes, or some kind of an expression on her
lips, or, I don't know what--anyway, she puts it across and nobody
makes any mistake about it."

"She has a ... a way with her," Graham volunteered.